


How Far We've Gone

by Patcho418



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:49:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21734050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patcho418/pseuds/Patcho418
Summary: There came a sudden weight on her shoulders, dragging her swiftly to the dusty stone ground. A huff of air was forced from Catra’s lungs, blowing against blonde locks matted with red. The pink and blue glow of the temple enveloped her and Adora, mouth hanging open and taking large, desperate gulps of air.This girl. Adora. Hacking from the dust of the battlefield filling her lung, her weight pressing into Catra’s shoulders and ribs, resting on her with neither girl having the energy to move away, blood sticking to her forehead and dripping down her brow. Catra had to stomach the urge to claw at her, to push her off and crawl far, far away from her.It was that wound. That gash, soaking itself through her blonde hair, haunting her with the knowledge of what she’d done. She found her hand wandering to Adora’s temple, trembling as she reached, her shoulder aching from battle but her fingers drawn to the wound. When did they let it get this far?
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 109





	How Far We've Gone

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! So this year I had the privilege of getting to work on [Promises: A Catradora Zine](https://catradorazine.tumblr.com/) as a writer. This was the piece I'd written last January, so it was long before season 2 or 3 was released, but I'm very happy with the short and am so thankful I got to work on this amazing project with so many talented writers, artists, and a very dedicated mod team! Be sure to check out the zine here on Tumblr, and if you can support all the talented contributors who created for the project as well!

Catra sneered viciously, suppressing the urge to scream in agony at the warrior standing directly across from her. “She-Ra,” she spat, clutching a throbbing wound on her shoulder. “You weren’t going easy this time.”

She-Ra’s pale blue eyes shot to Catra, a twinge of frustration—no, hurt?—flashing across her face. “You gave me no other choice, Catra. I never wanted this,” her voice echoed through the temple’s atrium.

The smaller girl tightened her lips, stifling her disdain. “You’re like a holorecord on repeat, you know that?”

Adora had always been so haughty, so noble and pure, and that infuriated Catra more than anything. She’d been the favourite amongst the Horde’s officers for these traits—traits that should’ve gotten her ostracized from the rest of the deceitful, conniving monsters within their ranks, and yet she had been favoured, loved, practically worshipped.

_Why her?_

Catra slumped forward, her limbs heavy and tired from the fight as a taste like iron filled her mouth. Across from her, She-Ra dug her sword into the stone floor and leaned against it, that obnoxious blue glow around her slowly dimming. Adora had once been the Horde’s best soldier, its top recruit, its most promising cadet. And she threw it all away for some honourable quest and a stupid sword.

_What’s so special about her?_

Catra’s footfalls were slow and lumbering over the craggy floor as she approached the princess, claws slowly extending from her fingertips. She bit back another cry of pain as she moved; she couldn’t let her know how much it hurt to walk, to move, to breathe. No, she was ending this. She was going to make that princess hurt, like the hurt she’d felt all these years on her own without Adora.

_Why Adora?_

Then, it vanished. The insufferable glow of blue that previously enveloped She-Ra was gone, depleted, and the warrior woman who plagued Catra’s mind and threatened all that she had worked to maintain had vanished with it. In her place was Adora, her blonde hair loose and unkempt around her face. Her shoulders slouched as she leaned against the blade, her breaths heavy and laboured.

Catra paused, her hands hanging at her sides as she took in the sight. She wished her anger would return, wished she could still feel that loathing in her chest. Instead, it had been replaced by sadness and grief, feelings she had grown far too familiar with.

She stood there, her body still and hands trembling. Why did she still hesitate when it came to Adora? She had left her! It was clear what her priorities were and her relationship with Catra wasn’t one of them. Her jaw clenched in frustration, but she could do nothing to suppress the feelings that kept her from doing what needed to be done.

“Catra,” Adora let out weakly, hardly glancing up from her weapon.

Catra didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Not when she so obviously couldn’t even figure out what to think.

“I…are you hurt?”

The words echoed in Catra’s mind the moment they slipped past Adora’s lips, endlessly repeating, each faint echo growing frailer and smaller and…younger? She could swear these were words that had slipped past her own lips far too often. Times when she and Adora had wreaked havoc around the Fright Zone, their youthful mischief causing many a headache to Horde officers and occasionally landing them in hot water. Times when they had been close enough to help each other bandage scrapes and scratches and giggle under their bedsheets about that look on that one officer’s stupid face or the sound that that senior cadet had made when they had spooked her before managing a quick getaway.

_“Are you hurt?” Catra asked, curiously studying the wound on Adora’s forehead, the young blonde pouting against her friend’s hand._

“Let me see.”

_“It’s not that bad, Catra!” she huffed, pulling away slightly from the scrutinizing gaze of her friend._

Wet hair clung to Adora’s brow and cheek, obscuring her wounds from her prying, desperate eyes.

_Catra scoffed, a puff of air escaping her nose and rustling her scraggly bangs. “Let me see!” She pounced, arms wide as she grabbed at her giggling friend while Adora’s hands wildly swatted at Catra in playful protest._

“Catra.”

There came a sudden weight on her shoulders, dragging her swiftly to the dusty stone ground. A huff of air was forced from Catra’s lungs, blowing against blonde locks matted with red. The pink and blue glow of the temple enveloped her and Adora, mouth hanging open and taking large, desperate gulps of air.

This girl. Adora. Hacking from the dust of the battlefield filling her lung, her weight pressing into Catra’s shoulders and ribs, resting on her with neither girl having the energy to move away, blood sticking to her forehead and dripping down her brow. Catra had to stomach the urge to claw at her, to push her off and crawl far, far away from her.

It was that wound. That gash, soaking itself through her blonde hair, haunting her with the knowledge of what she’d done. She found her hand wandering to Adora’s temple, trembling as she reached, her shoulder aching from battle but her fingers drawn to the wound. When did they let it get this far?

_Let me see._

Her arm collapsed beside her; what was she even doing? Adora was not hers anymore, not since that stupid sword—that stupid _She-Ra_ —took her away. Her stubborn eyes studied the girl’s face, searching as her fingers curled against the dirt. Anger. Annoyance. Spite. Anything that would tell Catra that her feelings weren’t unique to her alone. Anything to show that they didn’t have to cling to that abandoned past.

She tried to pull herself away from Adora, but her limbs gave out the moment she so much as tried to lift them. A defeated smirk played on her lips, and she coughed up the faintest laugh. “Geez, I guess there’s no running this time.”

The weight against her torso lifted slightly as metallic blue eyes finally met hers. “Why would you say that?” Adora’s voice was hoarse, strained, as if she were rediscovering her voice. “Don’t you want to just rest a bit?”

Another attempt to pull away, once more met with failure. Catra grunted against the girl. “Well, maybe I don’t wanna get captured?”

Adora exhaled, coughed, and fell again on Catra’s chest, though this time allowing herself to slip slightly onto the dirt. “You would be okay. I’d vouch for you.”

“And just what would you vouch for?” Catra hissed, the words sharper than she’d anticipated. “I’ve heard the pitch before, Adora, and I’m not interested. Just let it slide.”

“But…” Enough time passed after the word was spoken for Catra’s curiosity to get the better of her, and she dared a glance towards Adora’s face. What she found was an expression she’d grown conflicted about: desperate, blue eyes on the verge of tears, but a determination on her brow that Catra couldn’t find either endearing or revolting. “But it might be worth it. If it’s for you.”

“No way.” Catra’s voice cut through the thick air, the words almost immediate and instinctive, like a natural reaction to pain.

The air stilled between them, both girls shaken by the suddenness the statement: a vicious strike to Adora with enough blowback to send Catra reeling. The thumping in her chest began to speed up, hammering against her ribcage as anger flared in the pit of her stomach. ‘No way’ meant something, and Catra knew exactly what.

“You think I’d want to? You’ve got such a perfect little life in the rebellion, do you really think it’d be worth vouching for something that could just tear your stupid, perfect life up?” Catra’s voiced was lined with stifled fury that vibrated in her throat, and she couldn’t wait to spit it out. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly some dumb shining beacon of good and heroism and all that junk. But you know what? I don’t I really care. I may not be perfect, but I’m right where I should be. Right where I deserve to be.”

Once more, the words hung in the air, this time seemingly swarming around Adora just as they exited Catra’s mouth. A vicious scowl stretched across her face as she watched the words finally reach Adora, gnawing viciously at the blonde girl as her expression shifted between hurt, anger, and…doubt?

She bit down, sharp teeth burrowing into her cracked lip. Just what was Adora thinking?

_Did that make you angry?_

Adora’s eyes trailed over Catra’s features. “I never said I was perfect, Catra. And I never wanted to be.”

“Well you’ve got a funny way of showing it,” she snapped, venom lacing her voice.

Catra’s name was repeated in a hoarse voice, and she found her eyes glancing towards the blonde, momentarily catching a glimpse of red staining her bangs again. She clenched her eyes shut, forcing them away from the sight of what she had done, what she hadn’t been able to stop herself from doing.

She felt a squeeze on her shoulder; she didn’t dare open her eyes. “I just want to do what’s right.”

“And look where that’s gotten you!” Catra growled behind gritted teeth, desperate but unable to ignore the girl begging for her attention and patience. “Look where that’s gotten us!”

And when her eyes strained to remain shut, she opened them for the briefest of moments, catching the three puffy, red marks scoring her forehead.

Catra’s eyes stung; she knew what she had done. She knew when she’d charged at She-Ra, her heart filled with rage and her mind plagued with vengeance. She’d understood since the day Adora left how hard and dangerous and violent they could become—they would become, and yet seeing it she knew she was still unable to stomach it.

_Are you hurt?_

She hesitantly reached towards Adora’s face as her eyes began to fill with stinging tears. “Let me see.”

“Catra,” Adora began, almost pleading, but as Catra’s hand rested against her temple, pulling back her disheveled hair, no more words passed her lips.

_How many more scars, Adora?_

“Why? After everything I’ve done to you?” Now it was Catra’s turn to plead, her lips trembling as she fought back the tension in her fingers. “Why do you still want me back? Why don’t you hate me?”

Adora’s eyes widened. “Catra, how could I hate you?”

“Just look at everything I’ve done! To you, to your friends! I’m your enemy, Adora! What don’t you understand about that? Why can’t you hate me like it?”

The squeezing on her shoulder loosened slightly, but Adora’s hand persisted. “I don’t know. I don’t know why I…” She swallowed back dusty air, and when she spoke again her voice was rough but assured. “I miss you more than I could hate you.”

_How?_

Her heart pounded at her chest, begging for some kind of release, some kind of answer to a question she hadn’t even asked. Adora looked down on her with sadness in her eyes, sadness and grief. Catra knew who Adora’s sorrow was for.

Tears streamed over her red cheeks, dripping onto the dry stone beneath them as her fingers curled around Adora’s hair. “Don’t say that! You know you hate me!”

_You have to hate me._

“You have to hate me!”

_Why can’t you just let me go?_

“Why can’t you just let me go?”

Her knuckles were white, the claws on her feet scraping against the stone as she brought her face to Adora’s shoulder, wailing anger into her as her tears wet the rough fabric of her jacket. The softness of Adora’s strong but shaky hand left her shoulder, finding its way into her tangled mess of hair, fingers curling against her ear as she pulled Catra into a frail embrace.

“I’m not letting you go, Catra.”

Catra choked back an admission she’d been too proud to offer; now she was too ashamed to speak it.

_Please, don’t let me go._


End file.
